


Physics homework

by twofrontteethstillcrooked



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: And possibly then some, Drabble, First Kiss, M/M, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twofrontteethstillcrooked/pseuds/twofrontteethstillcrooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You want a neck rub or not, dickwad?" Ronan said in that grouchy offhand-but-not-really try-to-keep-up-Parrish way of his.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Physics homework

**Author's Note:**

> I read the first three Raven cycle books in six days. It...might have eaten my brain.

_St. Agnes rectory_

"I can help with that," Ronan said. It was the first thing either of them had said in at least an hour.

Adam looked up from the sample test in his lap. 'Which of the following equations always characterizes heat in a thermally isolated system?' did not seem like the kind of inquiry Ronan Lynch would be anxious to answer.

"Your headache," Ronan clarified. When Adam blinked in surprise, Ronan continued, "You've started squinting, like you always do when you've studied too long."

Adam could think of a dozen foul-mouthed responses to the obvious follow up statement about how he himself was actually interested in school, good grades, graduation, Ivy League scholarships, and a successful lifetime of not having to worry about the price of his luxury Manhattan apartment, much less toilet paper, and therefore he was willing to study as much as was necessary. 

He watched the muscles in Ronan's upper arms flex ever so slightly as Ronan flipped his own text books shut. Ronan's fingers were long; Adam felt oddly like he was seeing them for the first time. The tension in his forehead lessened only to turn up in his stomach. He meant to say "I'm fine" out loud but didn't.

"You want a neck rub or not, dickwad?" Ronan said in that grouchy offhand-but-not-really try-to-keep-up-Parrish way of his. 

"Not, I think," Adam said, over-enunciating and feeling both peevish and prudish.

"Whatever," Ronan said. He started to shove his text books into his backpack with an enthusiasm that seemed like barely checked wrath. He wasn't meeting Adam's eyes and his eyebrows were mad. Not that his eyebrows weren't mad about 97% of the time, but Adam was a little disconcerted by how unhappy it made him to look at them.

"You don't... You don't have to go home or anything," Adam said, testing out another tone of voice.

"I wasn't offering to mess with you," Ronan said, like there'd been a protracted argument and punching had been avoided but wasn't necessarily off the table yet. "And I wasn't trying to _mess_ with you, period."

He looked at Adam then. Adam didn't look away, instead counting to five in his mind and letting himself see Ronan, see what else was there on his face, in his wary posture, in his hands gripping the strap of the backpack. 

Oh. Oh.

Adam truly didn't know how to describe he was seeing in Ronan's eyes, but god. He liked it.

He liked it, and he didn't know what to do with that, and he knew exactly what to do with that.

"I take it back," he said. "I want to change my answer."

"Yeah?" Ronan's eyebrows were still pissed off.

"Yeah," Adam said. He swung his legs around on the mattress until his back was facing Ronan, and scooted up enough that there would be room for Ronan to sit behind him with his own back against the wall.

A few seconds of silence save the clock ticking, and Adam heard Ronan throw his backpack on the floor and move into position, exactly like Adam wanted him to. 

Oh shit, Adam thought, what am I doing?

He took a deep breath as inconspicuously as he could. Ronan rocked the mattress a bit scooting up, his thighs bracketing Adam's hips, and Adam forced himself not to startle when Ronan spread his hands on his shoulders.

Draped around him Ronan's body heat was like a blanket taken straight from the dryer. Adam shivered; Ronan exhaled a shaky, warm breath, and his thumbs bit into the base of Adam's neck. His fingers fell around Adam's throat briefly, as if asking permission. 

When Adam did not protest, the full weight of Ronan's hands began to knead everything from the top of Adam's spine to the indentation near the bottom of his occipital bone -- score one for human bio 101 -- and delicate lines of fire seemed to be tracing themselves up behind his ears, to the top of his skull, and directly into his brain.

Long minutes passed. Adam tried hard not to make a sound. He slowly became aware of his own ragged breathing. Probably people on the street below could hear it; probably the kids at choir practice inside the church auditorium could keep time to the sharp knock of his pulse. The insides of Ronan's knees pressed against the outsides of his. Ronan's hands were relentless.

It was easy for Adam to turn his head. That would be his excuse, if at some later date he needed one.

'Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,' he'd say, 'after such careful, thorough massage work it was just so easy--'

Too easy. He turned his head anyway and with his own mouth found Ronan's, sweet with Gansey's mint -- god, we should convert Monmouth into a gum factory, he thought hazily. And he meant to be tentative, as soft and almost secretive as Ronan's fingertips had been brushing against his suprasternal notch -- _fossa jugularis sternalis_ \-- but when Adam twisted in Ronan's arms--

The kiss was not gentle. It wasn't anything even approaching gentle. It was hot and fierce and Ronan immediately threaded his long perfect fingers through Adam's hair and scratched sparks across Adam's scalp. 

The kiss continued uninterrupted for another minute, or year, Adam lost to it and captured all in the same breath. For the space of a heartbeat he pulled away. Ronan let him, nothing on his face expressing anger or violence, only desire as vulnerable and ferocious as anything Adam had ever witnessed, more potent than he could have imagined. 

Adam clambered around until he was straddling Ronan, who ran his hands beneath Adam's thin t-shirt to stroke his thumbs up and down his spine, who bucked up under him like a promise, who sucked at his throat as if in prayer. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck," Ronan whispered as Adam kissed a trail from his jaw to his earlobe.

"Want me to stop, dickwad?" Adam asked.

Ronan's answer, though beautifully obscene, did not involve words at all.

**Author's Note:**

> You know how sometimes you just gotta get a scene out of your system, once you've thought of it? Yeah.


End file.
